


Peach Trees and Little Talks

by Minya_Mari



Series: Summer Is Always Nice [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya married Aegon for an army, Cuckolding, Cuckoocest, Does it count as Stark-cest if they both know he's a Targaryen? O_o, Elsewise, It'll mess with you a little, Just keep that in mind while you read this, Multi, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, She has three kids, Torrhen is Arya's eight year old son, Two of whom are his, ages change, just so you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minya_Mari/pseuds/Minya_Mari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshots, oneshots, oneshots! This is what goes through my mind, should Arya ever become a Queen of Westeros. Reviews are greatly appreciated!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peach Trees and Little Talks

"Being married to him is not such a bad thing," she observes from her seat in the gardens, Gendry standing sentry beside her.

She heard him chuckle, the sound a booming thing to her ears. "All these years, my queen. And still a terrible liar."

Arya flicked her grey eyes up at him, anger bubbling up as well as amusement. "You know me too well, my friend, how could I ever lie to you?" her tone conveyed many things, secrets that only Jon Snow would ever know, secrets that only Gendry himself had ever been told by her lips.

Arya heard the hesitation in his voice as the words slipped off his tongue. "The boy Torrhen looks very much a Stark, one could say, my queen."

Arya licked her stained lips; the dye tasted bitter in her mouth. "And a Stark name to match, of course."

"Of course," came his reply.

Arya rose from her reclining position and came to her slippered feet. Gendry fell into step at her side, hands folded behind his back and his strides long.

His voice was quiet when next he spoke. "The boy is not mine, and nor is he any seed of the king's."

Arya fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve, and felt the old flush of embarrassment rise against her cheeks and neck. "No, he isn't." She whispered. They were under a peach tree, and the fruit smelt sweet even here; everything was quiet save for their hushed bickering.

But they were in the capitol, and King's Landing had eyes and ears everywhere. "You wish to know who fathered him." Arya stated plainly, the words hollow in her throat as she watched her knight's handsome face. She rose onto the tips of her toes, rested her calloused hands on his armoured shoulders and brought her face so close to his that they shared the same breath. Arya turned her face to the side, lips brushing his bearded cheek and then his ear. Gendry shuddered under her touch as much as he had when they were younger, and it gave her a perverse thrill at the thought. "You should not pose questions you know the answer to, my love. It is not polite." When Gendry made an impatient sound, his hands searching for purchase on her hips, Arya slipped easily away with a water-dancer's grace, a giggle working its way from her lips.

The tree's bark was rough under her finger tips, and the birds sang happily in its' branches. Arya made sure to keep the trunk between them, the game making her feel young again. Gendry rested one strong shoulder on it and a cheek as he spoke. "The Prince That Was Promised, then." He said, voice rough.

Gendry was her confidant in most everything, and she trusted him with her life where she would only a handful of others. Arya slipped around the tree and reached up to cradle his head in her hands. She pressed her lips to his and he responded in earnest, his rough hands tangling themselves in her free hair and tugging gently.

Arya smiled against him and pulled back. "We must return to court, ser." With a cock of her head, she noted that the stain on her lips had smudged onto his, and let out a small laugh.

"What?" he asked, bemused, and she reached up to wipe the evidence of their activities away. Arya then turned on her heel and stepped down the small, stone stairs of the courtyard and through the doors, trusting that he would follow.

"But you were correct, as always, my friend." Arya whispered to him as they walked through the Red Keep.

She did not have to turn to hear the smile and regret in his tone. "As always." Gendry agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

She laughed, a wonderful sound to his ears, and Torrhen found himself smiling along with his sister, even though the smile hadn't been directed at him.

Naerys's twinkling, Stark-grey eyes caught his violet from her seat opposite him, their brother Daeron at her side.

Their eldest brother was one day going to be her husband; father and aunt Daenerys said it often enough; though mother often frowned and left the room when talks of marriage happened.

Daeron was nearly four-and-ten, silver-blonde hair tied back with red silk and wide shoulders hunched as he beared the weight of sitting through his siblings' lessons.

Jaena sat beside her half-sister, and together, the three of them looked the pretty picture of Targaryen siblings.

Torrhen turned to look at his half-brother by Arianne Martell, Daemond; the boy listened intently, dark eyes taking in what their Maester told them.

If Daeron was Targaryen by looks, then Daemond was pure Martell. Jaena was always gentle with her quiet brother, and she would insist that the rest were as well; though Torrhen knew their youngest brother had a will of steel when he wished to use it.

Naerys, Daeron and Jaena each had a dragon, and they'd each named them after the gods of old Valyria. "We will be the three heads of the dragon after Father, Aunt and Uncle pass away," Naerys had said to him a few days ago as they walked around the Pits; Meraxes upon her shoulders. "But we will keep the winter at bay," she had winked at him, his older sister. "Little do the highlords know, brother; but we are the winter."

It had been a threat to what was left of those who had wronged House Targaryen, and he knew Naerys well enough to know that she would follow through with it.

Torrhen had heard the High Queen complain of the fact that two of Arya Stark's brood had dragons, and that only one of hers did. He felt like telling her to shut her mouth on more than on occasion.

And though Torrhen's mother tried, he still heard the talk of him not being King Aegon's son.

 _It would explain your name, stupid_. He told himself once, when he was littler and furious tears had stung at his eyes. His mother's personal guard, Ser Gendry Waters was a bastard; and Arya Stark always said that the best boys were bastards, always with a small, secret smile touching her usually stern features.

Ser Waters was a big man, and always scared Daeron-though Torrhen knew his older brother would never admit to such a thing- and he was never far from their mother's side; silent and ever watching.

Torrhen had seen the king watching them one day; a sad look was always on his face when he watched his wife, the boy noticed.

Sad and angry.

Angry, he supposed, because Ser Waters was _always_ with her. The only times they were apart were when they slept; but on quite a few nights, (when Torrhen should have been sleeping, but wasn't And was instead sitting on steps with Naerys, kissing) he'd seen his mother sneak into the knight's quarters, silent as a shadow and swift as a fox.

He would not tell anyone of that, because he knew that his mother would not tell Daeron of him kissing Naerys.

He knew that it was because of his father that Arya Targaryen favoured him over her other children; that he was truly a bastard boy.

And that his true father was Jon Snow.


End file.
